


cover the mirrors (I cannot be seen)

by LorienofLoth



Series: the mirror is dark (and it doesn't shine) [1]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Gen, Rocks Fall Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorienofLoth/pseuds/LorienofLoth
Summary: things can always be worse
Series: the mirror is dark (and it doesn't shine) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665007
Kudos: 7





	cover the mirrors (I cannot be seen)

**Author's Note:**

> Lucivar & Daemon is the platonic ship of my heart and I genuinely believe that neither of them would have survived in any sort of acceptable state without the other. Also, the entire plot of the books can be tied back to Saetan's decision not to push for any rights for either Daemon or Lucivar, which is an amazingly non-contentious fact for them, considering. Also, I'm drunk

It’s Andulvar who tells him. Saetan had retreated deep into Hell after he’d lost Daemon and Lucivar in one fell swoop—had let them be taken—and whoever it was who had first heard the rumours had passed them on to the Demon Prince, rather than descending into Hell to tell the High Lord that his youngest son was dead.  
An accident, they said. His youngest son—his son, who laughed and fought, who struggled to read but always asked for an extra story—was dead in a hunting camp in Askavi, abandoned by his mother and father both. His son—Lucivar Yaslana, great-great-grandson of the Demon Prince—was, they swore, just one more child taken and broken by the Eyrien war machine, a mistimed fall in sparring practice all it took—or so they said—to break the darkest bloodline in the realms.  
Dorothea is clutching Daemon to her, of course, the only shield she can think to conjure. Saetan thinks to—wants to—go to her, take him back to the safety of Kaeleer, or even Hell, but somehow Daemon’s fragile child body is Lucivar’s, is Peyton’s, is that of his child who never was. He can’t protect him—can’t protect any of them—can only drag them down deeper and deeper into the Abyss with him, until the pressure cracks their bodies as it does their minds, leaving only crumpled husks in the Darkness. He leaves Daemon with Dorothea, and steps back further.  
It’s years later when his witch-child, the daughter of his heart, tells him she is friends with a man with a snake-tooth behind black fingernails and he is suddenly, painfully, aware of the son he left behind.  
Honour demands he handle the matter himself, and his daughter demands he let her go home alone. He accedes.  
Dreams made flesh don’t become cildru dyathe, but her friends ensure word gets to him nonetheless.


End file.
